


I Should Tell You

by yerdua



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Songfic, i should tell you, inspired by rent, rent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:57:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yerdua/pseuds/yerdua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Enjolras has had enough of Grantaire's cyncism at the Les Amis meetings, and storms out. He doesn't do this, of course, without telling Grantaire that he's good-for-nothing. Grantaire since hasn't shown up to any meetings in weeks, and Enjolras decides to pay the artist a visit to make amends.</p><p>(Inspired by I Should Tell You from RENT)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Should Tell You

"No."

Enjolras' eyes flashed up, finding Grantaire's. Grantaire breathed shakily, setting his mug of Irish coffee down. He felt the room's gaze on him, all watching him wearily in fear of how he'd provoke Enjolras today.

"It's impossible. How can you expect these professors to sign this petition if they won't even allow a bunch of optimistic, bright-eyed, and incredibly clueless students to hold a protest–"

Grantaire was cut off by the sound of Enjolras' cup shattering in his palm. The room gawked as they saw their leader flushed a violent shade of red, breathing in harshly as he clenched down on the blunt ceramic shards scattered in his hand. He paid no mind to the blood beginning to drip down onto his once-pristine planner, obscuring the details mapping out Les Amis' latest attempt to get their university board to start constructing gender neutral restrooms. Enjolras couldn't see straight, and all he could register was the man sitting in front of him.

He'd tolerated this long enough. Their third year of college had just begun, and Grantaire first stumbled into the Musain way back in their freshman year. Enough was enough, and Enjolras needed to settle his frustration (and fascination) with this man once and for all.

"Why do you come here? What merit does it give you to put our beliefs down? Do you know that none of what your saying even remotely helps our cause? You just sit there, being good-for-nothing–" Everyone in the room flinched and looked at Grantaire with concern, who blankly looked at Enjolras with glassy eyes.

"–with a bottle in your hand and joke around with _my_ friends. I don't know why they tolerate you when all you do is put their beliefs down!" Enjolras borderline screamed in indignation. He was hyper-aware of his eyes threatening to spill over in tears of frustration, and angrily blinked them back in defiance.

"I'm done with this. I'm done with you showing up just to crush our hopes. I don't want to see you here ever again, or even see you at the university. I just _can't_ deal with you anymore."

A tear rolled down one of Enjolras's cheeks as he gathered his belongings and furiously left the vicinity before any his friends could see him begin to sob.

* * *

Enjolras had screamed at an old lady in a supermarket when she called out a gay couple for playing with their child. He had made his college professor quit his job and nearly expel him for questioning his teaching methods and the course's very significance. He had made a police officer cry and run away from a protest for giving Combeferre a bloody nose. 

But he couldn't bring himself to knock on a stupid door.

And it was all because Grantaire was behind that thin piece of wood, either drinking himself to oblivion or creating a masterpiece. The very thought of having to face the man absolutely terrified Enjolras. He couldn't envision himself even beginning to explain his words to the cynical artist, and cringed at the thought of the remarks Grantaire would have right up his sleeve. 

The truth was, Grantaire was so disbelieving and had such little faith in humanity that–aside from aggravating him–it scared Enjolras. And to make it worse, Grantaire's grounds for what he believed weren't illogical. He wasn't just another opponent who could easily be swatted like a fly, no. His arguments were valid and incredibly intellectual. Whenever Grantaire opened his mouth to counter one of Enjolras's proposals, the artist's eyes glimmered with such vigilance that Enjolras knew being cynical was the one thing the man was passionate about. His eyes held the same fire that could be seen in Enjolras's whenever he spoke. His passion intimidated Enjolras and caused him to entertain the possibility of his beliefs being pointless.

Whilst Enjolras was caught up in his thoughts, the doorknob twisted open to reveal the very artist he'd just been preoccupied with. But surprisingly, no scent of alcohol lingered about him. In fact, Enjolras had never seen him look any better. A healthy flush was in his cheeks (not caused by a drink,) his shaggy hair had been neatly pulled away from his face into a beanie, and his blue eyes were set with piercing clarity. Grantaire quirked an eyebrow at him, causing anarchist butterflies to rise in Enjolras's stomach. _It's stupid how intimidated I am by this man,_ he thought bitterly, swallowing back his anxiety.

"What brings you here, Apollo? Did you come back to comment on anything else?"

Enjolras had it all planned out. He even formatted it out in a Word document just as he did with all of his speeches. He was going to formally apologize to Grantaire, point out that he been too harsh, and welcome him back to the Les Amis meetings. He was going to keep it strictly professional––just as it should be considering that they weren't even friends. But his heart had other plans.

"I-I should tell you." he stammered, face palming himself mentally.

Grantaire's mouth parted slightly in surprise. It took him a second to process Enjolras's reply, being caught off guard by the little stutter he had produced. "Tell me what?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"I'm a disaster, okay? I've been a mess ever since you started coming to our meetings. One day, I'm giving a mock speech that I'm planning to say at a rally when some guy I don't even know decides to tell me my whole message is stupid,"

"I'm used to people telling me that. I'm used to arguing back and winning the debate. But not with you. With you, you analytically tell me why I'm wrong and have me wondering whether or not my cause is one worth following. That's why I'm a mess, Grantaire. You intimidate me far too much for me to not be scared whenever you comment on my opinions."

Grantaire was confused. Because he had terrorized Enjolras, one part of him felt like stabbing himself and forcing Enjolras to walk away so he could die on the streets alone. But the other part of him felt like he just slipped into a warm bathtub with a glass of wine in one hand. _With Enjolras behind you_ , whispered his conscience. Grantaire wanted to slap it at that thought, but failed partly because you couldn't slap a voice and partly because he _really_ wanted to get into a bathtub with Enjolras.

Enjolras? Intimidated? By a stupid fuck like Grantaire? Okay, maybe not stupid…but how could he be intimidated by such a…such a...

Such a loser. A pessimistic, dense loser. For crying out loud, he sang along to High School Musical when he showered. He didn't believe in anything but alcohol's ability to make him forget.

Then Enjolras came along, and Grantaire started to see some light in the world. He was so powerful, so intelligent, so passionate…he was beautiful, and Grantaire was a moth transfixed onto the light. And that scared him. So what does a cynic do to prevent himself from becoming an idealist? He pushes the ideas down the drain, trying to find any possible fault within them. 

Who was he to know that Enjolras would begin to doubt himself?

He took a breath.

"Enjolras…I never wanted to make you lose hope in yourself. Considering that I always attack your ideas whenever there's a meeting, I know it sounds unbelievable, but it's true. You were the one who was changing me, and I was scared of being changed. You made me see a bit of the light, but I wanted to go back to the darkness, so I put you and your ambitions down. But please, please, don't ever think you won't succeed. You _are_ the revolution Enjolras, it'll never die while you're still alive."

There was a silence between the both of them, with Enjolras inquisitively looking at Grantaire with a gleam in his eyes. Grantaire rubbed a hand up and down his tattooed arm and hesitantly bit his lip before continuing with his explanation.

"And honestly…there's a part of me that kept on pushing you because I didn't know if you'd talk to me any other way. I didn't know if I'd be able to get back in that cafe if I didn't have anything to say."

Now it was Enjolras' turn to be confused. Why would Grantaire want to talk to him if putting Enjolras's cause down wasn't what he actually wanted to do? Why would Grantaire have so much faith and trust in Enjolras when he didn't see hope in anything else? Why would Grantaire think so highly of Enjolras if…if…

Oh.

"You love me, don't you?"

_Great, Enjolras. That's definitely the most modest thing anyone can ever say about themselves._ _Bra-fucking-vo._

Grantaire forced himself to meet Enjolras in the eye, and mid-way through deciding where the closest place to run was, he nodded. This was the most nerve-wracking moment of his life, and he'd just jumped off a cliff without knowing if anything would be there to catch him.

"What gave it away?"

Enjolras shrugged, not quite being able to take his eyes off of Grantaire's cutting gaze. How Grantaire had the ability to look like he wanted to escape and wanted to confront his feelings for Enjolras all at once, the leader didn't know. 

"I started paying attention to the things you told me that I should've. Whenever I'd listen to your arguments, I'd only hear criticism and disapproval. Now…I hear other things."

Enjolras looked at Grantaire's hand like it was a poisonous kraken waiting to lunge at Enjolras and choke him. As cautiously and bravely as Perseus once did, Enjolras reached out and took Grantaire's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "To tell you the truth, I don't know what I feel for you. I know that I'm intimidated, enraptured, and interested in you. But I don't know where all these feelings are coming from."

Grantaire hesitantly squeezed back. "If you want to…we can find out together."

"But what if we screw it up?"

"Honestly, who knows where this is going to go? Who knows if people have ever gone where we're going? All I can tell you is _here it goes_."

"Here goes."

The pair made their way towards the Musain, hands swinging between them in uncertainty and the willingness to trust in their desires.


End file.
